


Bleeding, Laughing, Crying

by Wanderlust_Novadust



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, I think anyway, Mild Blood, houndmaster's dog is baby, hurt comfort, it's semi-handwaved, slight angst, wound treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25260847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust_Novadust/pseuds/Wanderlust_Novadust
Summary: Cavelier snapped just after defending the Occultist from a deadly gash. Now Miron just wants Mallory to cooperate so he can get the poor fool patched up.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Bleeding, Laughing, Crying

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't slept, it's 8 AM, and this is unedited. Have fun!

“Cavelier!”

The call was enough, at least. Miron had become half afraid that he’d need to rush in head-first just to get him to snap out of it. The jester’s head snapped ‘round to look at Miron, wide eyed expression somehow making it to him from behind the mask. They only had so long. The swine that ambushed them may have been reduced to one, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t cause trouble.

“You have to at least let me try to heal you!”

The Occultist’s words fell on deaf ears, poor fool doubling over in laughter. It was in that vulnerable moment that the thing charged—hook nearly colliding and crashing into Cavelier’s skull. If it weren’t for a well timed hook landing into the swine’s back (tucking it backwards in a mess of blood and racketing sound of metal chains,) Cavelier may very well be worse off than he already was. They were all having a very, very bad expedition.

Even Mallory was struggling, huffing with the effort of dragging the swine back. As much as he tugged—he hadn’t knocked it over, so much as he was just sluggishly pulling it toward him while it tried to walk forwards again. This at least gave everyone else time to act. The Houndmaster acted first, sending in his hound to bite out the distracted pig’s throat.

There was nothing left to try and kill them. The dog trotted happily back to William, being pet and fussed over as any good dog deserved. Miron watched Mallory thoughtlessly plop onto his ass, huffing and shaking a bit. He had to wonder if Mallory was also trying to save Cavelier—though why would be beyond Miron. In any case—a part of Miron was glad to not be the only one shaken by that.

“I say now’s as good a time as any to camp,” Miron said in a voice just loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“Agreed,” Mallory heaved (over the quiet giggles of their not-so-stable friend.)

William just hummed, not looking away from his loyal companion—eyes so full of love and adoration as it got scratched behind the ear.

With no sign of help from anyone else, Miron took it upon himself to get everything set. He gathered the wood, he started the fire, and he set out the rations. Luckily, there was plenty. They’d managed to recover a fair deal of edible meat earlier, and it supplemented their dwindling supply nicely enough. So nicely that when Mallory spotted how much Miron set out (and the dog came sniffing,) everyone actually got off their asses and joined him by the fire.

“Can we really just eat all this,” William asked.

“Yes… We have plenty.”

Mallory looked over his shoulder (having realized Cavelier was not actually present.) Their little jester was giggling over a still-bleeding wound. As much as Mallory was fond of cuts and bruises—that was more than anyone had bargained for, and if Mallory didn’t bring Cavelier back with him? Grai would lose it.

“Cavelier, why don’t you join us,” Mallory called back.

He didn’t respond proper, but Cavelier at least had the good graces to wobble over and collapse into a sitting position. Mallory rather automatically handed him the bowl—just hoping in his heart of hearts that Cavelier could calm down enough to eat.

“We really should—“

Mallory shot Miron a look. Bleeding or not, Cavelier wasn’t going to listen to pleas to be treated. At the very least, not yet. Maybe getting some food in him would make him more… Lucid. If “lucid” was the word Mallory wanted to use, anyway.

Miron looked back in equal measure annoyed (having no fucking idea why he couldn’t just talk Cavelier into being healed.) Yes, he was giddy and laughing at everything, but this was… Something that could be managed. Miron was sure of it.

Trying to break the awkward silence settling in the air like a child watching two parents argue, William piped up. “What meat did you set aside for Prince? He absolutely loved it!”

William chuckled as he picked up the empty bowl that his hound was furiously licking clean. He held it high above his head, but that just meant Prince jumped up onto his hind legs. They fell over in a laughing mess, Prince keeping him pinned by sheer virtue of the fact William didn’t want to get up. With this, Prince continued licking the bowl.

Mallory got a good snort out of the display. It was quickly followed by Cavelier bursting into howling laughter, falling back with the effort of it and spilling all the rest of his ration. Mallory jumped, but then his head shot to Miron as he spoke.

“Cavelier, please…”

Mallory shook his head, “you really don’t have a clue, do you?”

Miron cocked a brow. “Excuse you?”

“No, excuse you!” Mallory groaned, the frustration of it being enough to draw Prince’s attention (which, in turn, got a delayed head turn from William.)

Miron spoke over Cavelier continuing laughter, “Mallory, I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I expect, Miron, that you will at least wait until he’s coherent before you go pulling anything!”

“Pulling anything,” he repeated, absolutely aghast. “You mean healing him?”

“If that’s what you call that wild spell you cast—then yes!”

William decided it was time to but in. “Let me handle this.”

The pair watched William sit up heavily, Prince plopping its ass down next to him nearly in time. “What’re you going to do,” Mallory asked, if not just concerned it’d make the situation worse.

“Watch.”

William whistled, snapping a few times before pointing to Cavelier. “Go get ‘em,” he said, keeping his tone playful. In moments, Prince bounded past the fire and right over Cavelier. The fool practically shrieked like he’d been attacked, but shockingly, he didn’t try to move (or otherwise escape.) He froze up, Prince play bowing over him in a way that brought them nearly chest to chest. When Cavelier didn’t respond in kind, Prince just laid down on top of him.

It was silent for all of a few seconds, before Cavelier sniffled. This sort of emotional back-and-forth is what Grai drilled it into him to avoid… And there was no way Grai wouldn’t find out at this rate. Mallory wouldn’t hear the end of it. Still though, it gave Mallory an idea.

He bat a bit at the dog, earning only a side eyeing look from Prince. “Move,” Mallory muttered… Prince only did some, shuffling backwards in a half-laid down position under it was just laying over Cavelier’s legs. This left that gaping stomach wound open for Mallory to mess with. Miron watched with confusion before it clicked.

“You mean to patch him up yourself?”

“Mayhaps,” Mallory responded airily.

“If you won’t let me use Wyrd Reconstruction, you might as well let me at least help patch him up… He got wounded protecting me, after all.”

Mallory and Miron were sitting over the quietly sobbing Jester in moments, muttering back and forth—passing bandages and needles with thread to each other. William crept over as they worked, glad they seemed to have finally calmed down. He pet Prince, watching that big doggy smile spread over its face as it panted up at him.

“Good boy,” he muttered.

Of course, that’s when Cavelier seemed to come to, in some way. He wasn’t blankly crying up at the ceiling anymore—his arm shot up to stop Miron’s arm mid-stitch.

“Stop,” he pleaded. “Stop, I don’t want to be patched up! I’m not your play-thing, hehehe!”

Was that really a laugh, or a sob? Miron wanted to speak, but Mallory just wrenched his hand away. “Cavelier, hush.” Cavelier’s arms were held above his head—all wrapped up in one of Mallory’s hands. He tugged, but Mallory was far stronger.

“Monsters! Heathens! I won’t dance for you anymore! I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!”

Miron got back to trying to keep Cavelier’s insides from pouring out, stitching him up as he commented. “It’s as though he has not a clue where he is.”

“I don’t think he does,” Mallory mumbled back under Cavelier’s rambling.

“Corrupt court you are! I will not! Release me, release me so I may die!” He was crying again…

The thread was cut—he’d need the bandages for these few… He started wrapping it all up as William gestured Prince over again.

“I don’t—“

Cavelier stopped, amazed by the hound above him. Before he could summon a reaction, Prince was licking his face. It earned giggles (and tears) with the salt on his face from sobbing only encouraging Prince to keep licking.

“Stop! Stop, foul hound,” he cried, but he was starting to laugh again. Prince showed no sign of halting, either.

“Stop, stop…”

Mallory cocked a brow, noticing the way Cavelier’s voice lowered…

“Stop…”

And then all was silent. Prince was just left licking his face, and Cavelier was practically limp. Miron stepped aside, done bandaging up what he could. Mallory got up in turn, looking down at Cavelier… His chest gently rose and fell—and that’s when they both realized.

“He fell asleep,” Miron whispered.

“I’ll be damned,” Mallory replied with a ‘heh,’

William held out his hand, Prince coming to lick that instead. “What can I say? Prince is a good dog.”

Mallory nodded a few times… “You know what? He is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna scream at me? Hit me up @wanderlust-novadust on tumblr.  
> Want my visual art and non-fandom fiction? Wanderlust Novadust is my newgrounds, and @art-of-the-nomad is my art tumblr.


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